Headstrong
by YouSentMeFlying
Summary: Imogen, a naive freshman, falls for the dark and mysterious Eli Goldsworthy, the greatest writer at Degrassi. He's hoarding a secret from the world, and Imogen is more than determined to discover what he's been hiding. Based on a true story.


**Hello! So, this is the story being submitted for a writing contest for school in a couple of weeks. I wasn't exactly supposed to post anything before I turned in the entire piece, but it's not like anyone at my school would know about it, right? ;P Besides, it's my 16****th**** birthday so I should have the privilege to post whatever I wanted, no?**

Whenever he's near she could feel her heart halt in her chest. The way he looks at her makes her stomach tighten in the most pleasant way, and she shudders at just the thought of him. His eyes so green that they appear as the most gorgeous and finest emeralds in the world, a luxurious one of a kind set. She wouldn't call it love – since it was entirely too early to determine such an emotion toward someone – it was more of an action which was so indescribable that it hurt her to think of this boy.

But she knows he would never notice her; why would he? He's the most breathtaking human being Imogen has ever set her eyes on… and she was just her. A quirky and immature girl who everyone trampled over at school. The girl who no one wanted to be friends with or be seen around with. She was that girl who made heads turn and voices whisper whenever she walked by. But she didn't want that. Why would anyone want to be judged whenever they sauntered through the halls at school? Imogen always assumed she wasn't the type to fit in with the normal crowd – in fact, she was far from being normal.

"Hey Moreno," Stiles spoke with a sigh, and then sat down on the wooden bench beside Imogen. She didn't respond, though; but by now she was too used to being judged the second she opened her mouth to speak. She didn't even try anymore.

Stiles was one of Eli's closest friends – he was nice, but she still didn't make the effort of paying any attention to him. It was freezing as hell outside, and she just wanted to get back to my her bed and not seem like some pathetic outcast to the world, making a fool out of herself for sitting alone at one of the hugest parties of the year. Why did she even come here tonight? Almost every night of the week she would sneak out of her house to gaze distressingly at someone who didn't know she existed. Who the fuck has outdoor parties in the middle of November anyway?

She watched him from across the way, and chugged down the last few gulps of her strawberry wine cooler. She was already beyond ready to go home, but she was too wasted to walk herself so far through the woodlands. With the great luck she had, she would fall into a trench and bust her head open; she didn't work well with the sight of blood. She should just pass out now in front of everyone while she's ahead.

"Hey, I don't like that frown on your face." Stiles poked her cheek softly. His fingers were cold like ice, which made an intense quiver run up her spine. Her first deduction was him being in charge of loading up the beer cooler tonight. "Come on, Ms. Grumpy, let's see you smile," he cooed at her like she was a young child, and the ridiculous expression he had plastered on his face made it impossible for her to disregard him any longer. She had to laugh. She had to enjoy herself for once in her life and stop being such a fucking loser who came alone to high school parties.

Stiles didn't go to Degrassi, he went to some other school that was a while up the way; he worked as a bagger at the sore Imogen went to a few miles up the road, but he still seemed to stick around with the Degrassi crowd.

"There's that gorgeous smile I love!"

She shook her head, the warmth of her blood radiated from her toes to pour up into her face. Imogen blushed, trying to hide it from Stiles. She could always count on him to make her feel better no matter how shitty this girl's day was going. She could honestly say he was her best friend… and they've only had a dozen meaningful conversations. Most of which started with the question "is plastic okay?"

"So I couldn't help but notice you watching Eli about…" he tipped something off on his stubby fingers. "Seven wine coolers ago. I thought your eyes were going to fall out of their sockets."

"You saw that, eh?" Imogen was hoping no one had seen her staring at Eli the way she was. The crush she's had on him for so long was so fucking useless. And Imogen so desperately wanted more alcohol in her system, but she forced herself to overlook it. It would make Stiles think she was either an alcoholic at fourteen, or her life was so fucked up that she depended on alcohol to pick her back up again.

Stiles tossed his empty beer can to the side and rested his weighty head on Imogen's shoulder. He admired this girl – he wouldn't say he was in love with her, because that obviously wasn't true, but it was safe to say he "fancied" her as the folks in England would say. He made the massive mistake of being too reluctant to talk much to her, and she already had her sights set on someone else. Stiles knew Eli way too well, and he didn't know how he felt about Imogen possibly getting together with him. Eli treated girls like they were no more than a step up from a pile of dog shit; the only thing women were good for was sex in his eyes.

Eli Goldsworthy was a disrespectful, cold-blooded brute who believed the whole world revolved around him. Girls were either tremendously ignorant or had no self-respect when they agreed to spend some time with him – clearly Imogen had no idea what she was getting herself in to.

"Screw it," Imogen sighed, frustrated. She couldn't stand sitting around, waiting for him to make the first move anymore. She needed to take action and do something before it was too late. She shook Stiles off of her and weakly stood from the bench. Her vision was indistinct, and she could hear the faint sound of her blood pumping through her eardrums almost instantaneously. Perhaps it was time to lay off the alcohol for the rest of the night.

Stiles watched her sway back and forth, his thick eyebrows furrowed together. "Where are you going?" but he already knew the answer, and he figured that he should be taking her home so she could get some rest but there was no doubt she would disagree. Imogen was quite the stubborn one; she did whatever the hell she wanted to do even though someone instructed her to do otherwise.

"Going to talk to Eli… I'll see you around, kay?"

"No, you should go home," Stiles argued, then arose to his feet to face her. Unlike everyone else, he was going to care for what could perchance emerge to Imogen and avoid the issue before she could get herself into any type of trouble. Talking to Eli was precisely what he wanted her to circumvent. He certainly had no right to tell this girl what to do, but he was only looking out for her own safety.

She rolled her eyes at him. If he would have told her this a half an hour ago, she would be more than willing to have Stiles walk her home, but now that she finally had the bravery to talk to this boy there was nothing that could get her to leave this party. "You can't tell me what to do, Stiles, we hardly even know each other. Just let me do what I want, okay?" she wasn't mad at him, but she didn't appreciate anyone trying to run her life for her. This was her life; therefore, it was no one's job to live it the right or wrong way but her own.

"Fine." He threw up his hands in defense, glancing down at his feet awkwardly as Imogen turned back to head the other way. "But be careful with him."

She continued frontward to where Eli was slumping in his chair, surrounded by familiar faces and numerous red cups which were filled to the rim – she couldn't believe she was actually going for this. It sure took her long enough.

Owen – a larger male – sat at Eli's right side, a girl that Imogen recognized from school sat in his lap. And at Elis left was Fitz, a fellow she's known for fairly a while now; he used to put her down every chance he got. Eli Goldsworthy was seated in the middle of the two, he gripped his cup full of some kind of distilled brew in his hand, and a joint was drooping loosely from his separated lips. His leg bounced to the beat of the music smoothly, in addition to his eyes being fastened shut as he let his head fall back gracefully. He adored the substance and let the intoxicating burn of the haze sting throughout his lungs. Eli let his mind go blank, erasing every type of agony he's felt in his life – Eli wanted to be worry-free for once, and let go of every corrupt memory he's sustained over the years.

Imogen approached the boy; her head held high as Stiles observed her from a distance. She was cautious, taking notice of what Stiles had told her.

xxx

She advanced down the sidewalk with her hoodie over her head, and her eyes locked on the ground beneath her. Imogen was so exhausted after going to so many parties over the weekend with Eli; turns out he had requited feelings for her as well and everyone was happy.

The previous night, they grinded the night away while loading up on booze and popping pills every few minutes or so. Even though this was far from what she entitled a healthy "lifestyle" at her age, she wasn't going to regret the last three days she's spent with Eli. Although, she was looking forward to seeing Stiles at the grocery store yesterday, she slept in too late and her mother didn't bother to wake her before leaving for the store.

Stiles caught up with Imogen, whipping his muscular arms around her waist playfully; this made her jump. He was on his way to school when he saw Imogen trailing up ahead – he hassled her mother the previous morning for the directions to Imogen's school so he could talk to her about the other night. After he left her alone at the party on Friday evening, he's been worrying about her ever since. She didn't look hurt – she seemed happier than how Stiles would generally see her – maybe he didn't have anything to be worried about this time. People could change right?

"Hey stranger," she laughed, softly prying his hands from her waist. It was looking like she was finally making a friend who was sociable enough with her; she knew she could already trust Stiles with her life. "Did you need something?"

"Yeah…" he nudged Imogen's shoulder lightly to lead her forward. "Do you think I'm attractive to gay guys?" this wasn't at all what he was going to question her, but he couldn't work up the nerve to ask how Eli's been acting around her; it wasn't exactly any of his business anyway.

"What?" she giggled, glancing off to the side of the road bashfully. She honestly didn't know what was going through Stiles' head at most times. Half of what came out of his mouth never truthfully made any sense to her whatsoever. How was Imogen supposed to know if certain sexualities found him 'attractive' or not? Or maybe, just maybe, she was dodging his interrogation for a reason. "I suppose."

He shrugged his shoulders and continued on, not daring to look the girl in her intoxicating, big, brown eyes. "Am I attractive to straight girls?"

"What?" she repeated. A gentle blush started to sneak onto her cheeks, but she shook this action off and told herself it was from the prickle of the icy Toronto air. Imogen didn't like Stiles in that way by any means, so she didn't comprehend what was making her get so bashful when she was around him.

"_Do straight girls find me attractive?"_ he asked her louder, not realizing she heard him adequately the first time. "Striking, good-looking, handsome, eye-catching... pretty... any of these?" she didn't reply. "No?"

Neither of them spoke again for a moment or two, and Imogen was enjoying the silence which gave her the time to dismiss the awkwardness in their previous discussion. Even though they were getting close now and she distinguished the thought she could talk to Stiles about anything, she didn't feel comfortable admitting to him how nice-looking he was. In truth, that was on the bottom of her 'to-do list'.

"What if I put on a wig, would I be pretty then?"

"Stiles!" Imogen barked.

He glanced over at her. "What?"

"Shut up."

He nodded his head. "Let's keep this little tête-à-tête between the two of us, shall we?"

**It's rough… and short. But there shall be more later on. Like, way later on. If anyone was wondering, yes Stiles is from Teen Wolf – I was having a marathon of the MTV show two months ago and figured he would be perfect for the part. Let me know what you think, and be as critical as you need to be. **


End file.
